


the fall

by CHER_UBIC



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And murders all, Blood and Gore, Dean goes on a rage, Gen, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Murder, Sam and Cas are not together, Specifically Sam and Cas, Swearing, just mentioned, triggering content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9238976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHER_UBIC/pseuds/CHER_UBIC
Summary: Dean, just recovering from the Mark of Cain, realizes the Mark wasn't the one making him kill.





	

In. Out.

In. Out. 

 

 Dean Winchester's chest rises up and down to the pattern of his breaths, matching his footfalls as he walked through the bright forest. It almost made him feel guilty, dirtying the beauty of the morning.

 

 Then again, he couldn't give less of a fuck.

 

 His boots crunched the leaves under him, the sound satisfying and doing barely anything to soothe the heat and anger rushing through his veins, accompanied with the lust for blood. For death. See, this is a feeling the Mark of Cain couldn't give him. This raw, pure unaltered rage, coming from the depths of his, well, the remains of his soul. No matter what Castiel had tried to do for him, his soul shattered in Hell, the minute he picked up his blade and started torturing the sinners. The murderers, the rapists, the thieves. It felt good. He couldn't get enough, until he came back to Earth and found his younger brother. The rage subsided, suppressed. He couldn't show Sam what he'd become. 

 

 Then, he obtained the Mark.

 Oh, that felt good.

 

 Everything he'd been suppressing since he was revived suddenly burst out of him, his need, his want to kill. He had an excuse, a reason to use these urges again. Of course, poor little Sammy did everything he could to help bring back his older brother, but there was nothing he could do. Dean, the old Dean, was still in Hell. The fractured pieces of his soul that were just dirt on the floor to Alistair were the only sane pieces of him left, chiseled out with blood, skin, and screams. Now, what stood in its place, was anything but the loving big brother Sam had once knew.

 

 Dean soon came upon his prize. A small cottage. He could practically smell the blood from the people who lived there. Four people. An older man, two young women and a teenage boy. All innocent people trying to get by. The hunter stalked up to the front stoop and kicked the door in, blade in his hands and gun in his belt. There was a women at the sink in the kitchenette, and she screamed. Dean surged forward and covered her mouth, plunging the blade deep into her chest, blood warm and thick as it ran down his hand. He smiled as he watched the life drain from her once-vibrant hazel eyes. He twisted the knife and listened to the squish of her organs and the crunch of bones. He swiftly and efficiently pulled the knife out of her, shaking his arm and listening to the wet _splat_ of blood hitting the stone floor.

 

 The older man came rushing out with his cane and a shotgun. The hunter smirked. It was much more fun when they fought back.  The man first swung his cane to attempt to hit the unknown man in the head, but Dean caught it effortlessly and yanked on it, making the man fall at his feet. A groan of pain and a crack came out of him and Dean smiled. He pulled his gun out of his belt and cocked it, pointing it at the man's head and shooting him where he lay. A hole pierced through the man's skull and almost immediately blood poured out all over the floor, painting the stone red. It also went all over Dean's boots.

 

 "Son of a bitch." He growled, huffing softly. Oh well. He stalked through the rest of the house and searched for the remaining two family members. They were hiding together in a bedroom. Cute. Dean pushed the door open and he was jumped by the younger boy. The woman screamed his name and started sobbing. The hunter wrestled with the boy for a bit until his gun was nabbed by the kid. He jumped up and aimed it at Dean, the hunter still on the ground. His hand was shaking and he was pointing it at his head. "Hey," he said softly. "Put that thing down. You'll hurt someone." The kid's face changed and Dean took the opportunity to jump him, plunging his bloody knife into the kid's side.

 

 He screamed in pain and the woman ran over and tried to help him, pleading and sobbing. "Please, please," she cried. "Please stop this." Dean laughed and picked his gun up off of the floor. "Shut the fuck up." He growled, shooting her in the head. The kid flinched. The hunter left the cottage, blood splattered on his clothes and face cut above his eyebrow. Otherwise, the hunter was unscathed and ready to kill again. 


End file.
